


Artwork

by GoddessofBirth



Category: Firefly
Genre: Ambiguous Motives, F/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Seduction, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 14:56:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessofBirth/pseuds/GoddessofBirth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was suicide.  He knew it.  But just because he knew it, doesn't mean he <i>cared</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Artwork

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for a prompt for a drabble, and received three (suicide, Vegas, and guinea pig). So I ended up writing a triple drabble to combine all three.

This was suicide; he knew it as sure as he knew the ammo count for all the guns on the boat, as sure as he knew just how much whiskey he could drink and still shoot straight. If he ever had a death wish, this was the quickest way to go.

 

But there she was, propped up across his bed, wearing nothing but a black cotton undershirt and bikini panties, practically glowing against the backdrop of his weapons. The coup de grace was the slim cigar she held in her fingers, head thrown back as she blew out smoke rings and then broke them with her tongue.

 

She reminded him of a painting he'd seen on New Vegas - right down to the whiskey bottle resting by her smooth, bare thigh - which was how he knew she was playing with him, probably planning on using him as some kind of guinea pig in a coming of age experiment. Maybe wanted to see if she had what it took to get a man's rocks off, maybe wanted to see if he could get _hers_ off.

 

Yeah, he knew it, but just because he knew, didn't mean he _cared_.

 

He carefully locked his hatch behind him before dropping the rest of the way down the ladder and lazily leaning against the wall, just waiting.

 

She took one more draw of the cigar and blew a cloud of smoke toward him, her face momentarily hazy in the smog. When it cleared, she'd uncorked the bottle and lifted it to her lips; drank and then held it out toward him. She spoke, her voice rough and low from tobacco and liquor.

 

'Interested?'

 

'Oh, little girl,' he drawled, pushing himself upright and prowling toward the bed, 'you ain't got no idea just how much.'


End file.
